Lessons
by Discernible
Summary: In which Atobe and Fuji learn many lessons about each other through cohabitation and (supposedly) mutual love. [Continued]
1. Default Chapter

**_Title_**: Lessons  
**_Section_**: Fanfiction  
**_Rating_**: PG-13  
**_Warning(s)_**: Light Angst; Pointlessness  
**_Pairing(s)_**: Atobe x Fuji x Atobe  
**_Disclaimer_**: Tennis no Oujisama belongs to Konomi Takeshi-sensei.  
**_Author's Notes_**: Ah, another pairing that I love. This time around, I'm writing it as realistically as possible. Though I may be off by probably a long shot, I think this is readable enough. I'm not sure how long this will turn out to be though.

**Lesson 1**

It was true that Atobe "Oresama" Keigo never had any time for anyone but himself. But years of living with his demanding, high maintenance partner, also his house mate, and occasional lover taught him the value of learning how to cope with different situations that involved him actually shelling out time for someone else.

He had lots of money and prestige, but they never bought him lessons on how to deal with this particular human being. Learning to deal with his boyfriend was more of a tougher job than anyone expected.

Of course, not that anyone had expected the bocchama of the Atobe household to turn out gay. That, indeed, was quite a surprise. And as his boyfriend put it, "I'd imagine that your father would have a heart attack." and indeed, that prophecy proved to be correct, though missed the mark by a bit. Atobe Senior had been hospitalized for three days after having a dramatic increase in blood pressure. Technically not a heart attack, but close enough.

But eventually Atobe Senior had relented. His headstrong, arrogant son had his own choices, after all. And the rich and elite would never resort to the awful levels of the commoners – weeping and lamenting, visits to the psychiatrists they couldn't afford, and even chasing their offspring out of the household. The rich and elite held their heads up high.

And so Atobe Junior had received his blessings from his family. And he was contented, and rather satisfied that he had gotten his own way with things with little fuss.

But there was another problem. Atobe Keigo's supposed 'boyfriend' wasn't really his boyfriend – yet.

Fuji Syusuke always viewed the notion of the flamboyant Atobe courting him as a matter of amusement. He was, of course, extremely flattered, but really, the prodigy wasn't called a prodigy for nothing. Who in their sane mind would actually let Atobe have his way with them? Homosexual or not, the relationship would be severely one-sided if Atobe ever decided to exercise his whims even every now and then. Plus he was high-maintenance, arrogant, narcissistic, and wouldn't prove to be such a good prospect for the future.

And the fact that sadism would never go well with flamboyancy.

If Fuji was one thing, Atobe was not. Opposites did attract, but the sparks created would have easily turned into an explosion that would drag them in and char their asses to a smoking scrap. While Fuji took sure risks with calculated returns, Atobe took calculated risks with sure returns. Their relationship would be similar; yet not.

But yet years later (four, to be specific), they were living together in a quaint little house down an influential neighbourhood around the Tokyo residential area. Atobe had made indistinct noises about the size of the house and lack of servants, at first, but Fuji had turned a deaf ear. And Atobe knew it was all about the give-take situations.

There were bright yellow flowers poking up from all the fertile soil placed in long plastic pots, placed along the empty space that wrapped around a thin path of concrete leading up the front door of the house. Rows upon rows of the flowers were flanked by pots upon pots of cactuses of varying shape and colours, and it did seem a bit messy, albeit in an artistic way.

Atobe, who could never stand the sight of his hands getting dirty, had announced the entire project of beautifying the house front as a complete waste of time, and Fuji had simply smiled and handed a shopping list for gardening supplies to his boyfriend, which in turn, was discreetly passed over to Atobe's personal assistant.

As the days went by, Fuji and Atobe had learned the intricate twists and turns with dealing with one another's whims and habits. Every three weeks or so they would argue about incredibly trivial things that made them look like two little boys arguing over who was stronger, and with each disagreement they would learn how it was to forgive the other. And each passing day they learned valuable lessons, like Atobe knew that Fuji liked holding hands, while Fuji knew that Atobe loved surprise gifts.

Plus the sex was great.


	2. Lesson 2

**_Title_**: Lessons  
**_Section_**: Fanfiction  
**_Rating_**: PG-13  
**_Warning(s)_**: Pointlessness; Unsatisfying ending  
**_Pairing(s)_**: Atobe x Fuji x Atobe  
**_Disclaimer_**: Tennis no Oujisama belongs to Konomi Takeshi-sensei.  
**_Author's Notes_**: Lesson 2 really isn't my cup of tea. I'm sorry if anyone finds the ending unsatisfying; but I do want to illustrate the fact that not all disagreements can be solved with a kiss to make up for it. Ah hahahahaha. Someone's going to want to shoot me for this. Ahahahhaha.

**Lesson 2**

Cohabitation was a brand new concept for both of them. For Atobe, it was an experience like no other. First and foremost, he valued his own personal space. He, like everyone else, had his own little habits and pet peeves. But he supposed, that if he wanted to have great impulse-driven sex with his boyfriend without having to drive the four miles to Fuji's apartment, then the logical solution would be to live together. Or he could forgo to sex part, take a cold shower, and live with it.

Hah. As if. An Atobe always got what he wanted.

When Atobe broached the subject, Fuji had an odd expression on his face. It was something akin to apprehension, something Atobe couldn't understand. But he refused to dwell on it, and once Fuji had converted his apprehension to mild enthusiasm, Atobe forgot all about Fuji's reaction.

Finding a home wasn't difficult. In the speed Atobe took to snap his fingers, his personal assistant had several real estate agents ready with brochures and glossy pictures. All the while Atobe described what he wanted over the phone, Fuji had watched with his eyes wide open.

That night, Atobe had excitedly presented a dazzling selection of their possible future homes. Fuji had looked on uninterestedly. With his elbow perched against the coffee table and his palm holding his chin, he had toyed with the brochures, and was only half listening to what Atobe was saying.

Atobe, being Atobe, soon got annoyed.

"Look, if you're not interested at all, then we shouldn't do this." His tone was curt and sarcastic, and there was the barest hint of impatience in his features.

Fuji, being Fuji, wasted no time in getting back at Atobe.

"That's fine." He pushed himself up. "See yourself out. Good night." As he turned to go Atobe found himself getting plain pissed off, and without thinking, he grabbed Fuji's arm.

"Syusuke, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Fuji stared at him for approximately five seconds, then decided to face his boyfriend, at the same time shrugging off the tight grip on his arm.

"I'll tell you what's wrong. What's wrong is that you alone have decided on what house we'll live in, when just yesterday, may I remind you, JUST YESTERDAY that you told me that we should live together. Just like it's your decision to do everything else." Fuji crossed his arms, just as Atobe decided to interrupt.

"And then you go on and on on something that we're supposed to share! We're in a relationship, Keigo, I hope you noticed that." As Fuji went on, he gradually lost steam.

Suddenly he felt stupid. Suddenly he had a vision of both of them happily discussing their future plans together, sitting bunched against each other looking at extravagant glossy photos of spiffed-up houses.

Suddenly, just suddenly – _he wanted that to happen._

"I'm sorry." Fuji opened his eyes. And he walked forward. Despite Atobe's stiff posture, Fuji hugged him tightly.

Moments passed before Atobe finally relented.

"Yeah, I am too. Let's save this discussion for tomorrow." He whispered.

And they left the room.


	3. Lesson 3

**_Title_**: Lessons  
**_Section_**: Fanfiction  
**_Rating_**: PG-13  
**_Warning(s)_**: Light Angst; Pointlessness  
**_Pairing(s)_**: Atobe x Fuji x Atobe  
**_Disclaimer_**: Tennis no Oujisama belongs to Konomi Takeshi-sensei.  
**_Author's Notes_**: Lesson 3 proved to be a long story cut extremely short; and I'm glad I cut it short. Actually, Lesson 3 actually turned out to be written before Lesson 2, which is so odd.

**Lesson 3**

Atobe and Fuji were immensely excited. They would be going on a trip to buy their new bed soon – a bed they would both share. To them, it was a huge step forward. Even though Atobe had often stayed over and Fuji's and vice versa, there was nothing like the magic of shopping for a new bed (which they would share!) in their new house (which they would also share!). Needless to say, they were in high spirits that afternoon when they went out.

They returned four hours later, one in a pissy mood, wanting to throw a hissy fit, and the other, thoroughly amused with the entire shopping experience, and there was their bed in a delivering truck behind them.

As Fuji reflected what had happened that afternoon, he chuckled softly. That earned him a hostile glare from Atobe, who was in the midst of arrogantly supervising the process of the deliverymen moving the bed into the bedroom.

But what they hadn't anticipated was that the bed, whether its width or height, was far too big for the entryway to the bedroom.

"I don't care how you do it. Get the bed," Atobe pointed to the bed, then the door, "Into the bedroom. I pay for this bed and delivering service for a reason." Atobe shook his head, irritated.

"Sir, that's just not possible. The doorframe …" One of the men panted, while looking apologetic. "… Is just too small."

Atobe was incensed.

"What's that? Are you saying that my house is small? I don't care if the doorframe is too small; what matters is that you get the bed in!"

"Sir!" The other man said, as he gestured for the other to put the bed down on the ground.

"I don't care -" Atobe started, but was silenced by Fuji's sudden interruption.

"Ah, I see. Why not you place the bed right here?" Fuji pointed to the floor. "Thank you very much."

"Syusuke- " Atobe stared at his boyfriend. "We just can't leave the bed here!" Fuji placed a placating arm on Atobe's. Atobe's eyebrow shot up into his hairline, but he kept his silence. When the deliverymen left, with an apologetic yet thankful look directed at Fuji, Atobe threw his hands up in a dramatic way, and said,

"That's it. I'm getting futons."

Fuji just chuckled.


End file.
